I am a well-rounded geek.
Now I'm not referring to my lack of a chiseled body, it's more of a social-well-roundedness. (Is that a thing? If not, then it should be.) As a kid/teenager I was involved in everything from baseball to soccer, tennis, basketball, ballet, music, computers... to name a few. My mother went to great lengths to make sure that my sisters and I had the fullest childhood experience she could muster and we all benefited from it.
My older sister is a painter/artist, I am an engineer and a musician, and my younger sisters are fashion/models/writers. None of us have been pigeon-holed into any one particular thing, and we all have a good bit of life-experience to draw from as we navigate the road before us.
That said.... I am NOT a sports-guy as an adult. Not by any far stretch of the term. I'm "in the know" enough that if a bunch of dude-bro's are having a football conversation, I am not completely lost in the mix, asking them if the quarterback hit the puck into the backstop and stole a base in the second half, while hitting for the cycle and scoring a try. I do in fact, enjoy watching baseball both on television and at the park, since I live in Philadelphia and by default am a Phillies fan.... I know, *sigh* I accept your condolences. But my sports-guy-ness (also, should be a word if it's not) pretty much stops there.
For reference, I bought this zip-up hoodie today from Shirt.Woot:
So with that little backstory.... We arrive at the point of this little narrative, after a few tangent twists and turns:
This Saturday I was at band practice. I've been playing guitar with a new group of folks, and it's pretty wonderful actually. We all bring something unique to the table with backgrounds and styles and thus far it's meshing pretty well. And like pretty much everything I do at this point in my life, it does have a flair of "geek" to it, which includes my approach to playing guitar: I show up to practice with a guitar, an amplifier, and a laptop.

After practice, one of the guys says to me "Hey, my brother is hosting a fund-raiser party tonight, do you wanna go?" Now, it's about 10:30pm at this point, and my girlfriend (Rita, remember?) was expecting me home after practice which was supposed to end at 10:00..... I thought about it for a minute, and said that I would love to go. Shot a text message to Rita letting her know that I was going out with some friends and that I didn't know what time I would be getting home. I never heard back from her. Presumably, I figured it was because she was already asleep, because I think that while I am technically older than Rita, she has the "staying-awake" potential of a woman of a very advanced age.
It's at this point, that I am informed that the party is at a batting cage.
This doesn't particularly alter my desire to go, even though I haven't hit a baseball since I was in high school. The worst it could go, is that I either step in the cages and miss every pitch and laugh it off, or I don't hit at all and just torture the rest of the party-goers by forcing them to witness my sad attempts at white-guy-nerd-dancing.
We show up at the batting cage, and pay the nominal door fee (it was a fund-raiser afterall) and I search the room for signs of people that I know. I did in fact find a few folks, and we chatted for a few minutes until I decided it was time to get my geeky self up to the plate and swing a bat. Needless to say, I ended up going for four rounds in the batting cages. (Might have been five... I'd had rather a few too many beers by the end of the night so I lost track of how many times I was in the cages.) And what I did realize, was that after almost 15-years of not swinging a bat or hitting a ball, I still could in fact make contact and drive the ball, hard. That actually felt really good.
After they shut down the cages, which was probably a good idea considering that a room full of people of varying states of drunkenness, standing inches away from violent projectile objects hurtling towards them at speeds around 70mph was unlikely to turn out well.... I spent some time talking to people, meeting new people, and before I could even blink, realized it was 1:30am!!!! I checked my phone, and noted that Rita had not texted me back yet from my earlier text letting her know I was going to be late, and I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or an omen of what was to come.
So we collected ourselves left the party, and I made the trek back to my house. I stumbled in the door at 2:00am carrying guitars and my amplifier, making a tad too much noise as I entered the living room..... Dexter (the poodle whose home I am permitted to have access to.... I'm smart enough to know whose house this is...) started barking when I walked in, and I attempted to shush him, but he would have none of that. After appropriately yelling at me for coming in the door, he ran upstairs to wake up Rita. (A task at which he was immediately successful.)
Rita appeared at the top of the stairs, with bed-head and sleepy-puffy-face, trying to open her eyes in order to adjust to the light.... and then she spoke:
Rita: What time is it?
Me: Um... it's 2 o'clock.
A little part of me, braced for the impact of what the next series of questions were going to be.
Rita: Oh my! Were you at band practice this whole time?
Me: I guess you didn't get my text.....
Rita: No, what was it?
Me: Well I went to that fund-raiser party.
Rita: Hold on....
Rita then walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, opened them, walked back to the stairs, handed me one and sat down on the 3rd step up from the ground...
At that point, Rita and I talked for an hour, with her sitting on the steps, both of us drinking a beer, talking and laughing about the fun I'd had, and how she wished I had stopped by the house on my way to the party and dragged her out of bed and made her come with me. (Although in reality she was happy that I hadn't done that, because Rita does love sleep above all other things.)
I think the moral of the story is this: Rita trusts me. Even though I walked in the door at 2am, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, having spent the night at a party, her knee-jerk reaction/response was happiness that I'd had a good time. Her default reaction wasn't one of distrust, or anger, or jealousy.
That was a good moment to have, and was the perfect way to end a pretty great night.
-Apostrophe
(Nerdfriend)